


Tempt My Troubles

by yotoob



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, as IF I didn't have enough on, band au, thank you berry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-05-30 21:01:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19411327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yotoob/pseuds/yotoob
Summary: Eve is the manager of a rock band. Villanelle is the lead singer of a rival band, and is alsothemost irritating person Eve has ever encountered.





	1. Dammit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [berrysck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/berrysck/gifts).



> @sckberry on twitter made a manip of Jodie that ate my whole brain. and then @villanelleves said "someone write the band AU with villanelle as the singer of a famous band and eve as her manager please" (I took liberties, but I hope you like it.)
> 
> https://twitter.com/sckberry/status/1144499548393336833?s=20
> 
> (I SWEAR I WILL FIGURE OUT HOW TO LINK THIS PROPERLY BERRY WHEN I'M LESS TIRED)

** Chapter One **

Eve can remember the first time she heard of The Kill Commanders.

“Crap name, isn’t it?” Hugo waits for a moment, and then laughs again. “The Kill Commanders sounds like a squad on Fortnite named by ten year olds.”

“Yeah… I don’t know what that means. Still.”

“Eve, why are you so old? How have you missed the… entire concept of online community gaming?”

Eve sighs, looks up from her notes, and pushes her hair out of her eyes, tying it back automatically. She looks at Hugo, who is sprawled across the couch in the grotty backstage room that Eve has to use as an office.

“Hugo, I’m trying to figure out the merch stall… can you, just be somewhere else?”

“They have a hot singer.”

“Who do?”

“The Kill Commanders. Their lead singer is meant to be erection city. Ches saw them the other night. Saw her. Face tats, he said. Face tats and tits.”

“Gross, Hugo, for fucks sake”

“Probably not got any songs. If I had tits, maybe I wouldn’t have to work so hard on the song quality.”

“Hugo you’ve never worked in your life, will you-”

“I’m going, I’m going… do you want a drink?”

“Sure, thanks.”

When Hugo opens the door, the noise of the venue is obviously louder. Doors must be open. Eve checks her phone and sighs, wondering why time is always running away from her.

…..

She hasn’t got the time, but curiosity gets the better of her. When she hears the opening chords of the opening band, she creeps out of her makeshift office.

Eve rarely ventures out into the crowds at gigs. She’s been The Dammit Janets’ manager for six months now, assigned by the label when they were signed and the exec realised that they needed someone who actually thought like an adult to make sure that they got to the various gigs. 

Eve has always been the adult in the room. She sometimes wonders what it would be like, to rip shit up and scream at the sky, but if she ever did have the opportunity to do that, the moment has long since passed.

She feels very different from this Manchester crowd. She sticks to the edge of the crowd, before deciding that mingling with the twenty something generation isn’t for her. She likes beer, but she doesn’t like it down her neck. Eve can't see the lead singer, but curiosity will have to wait.

So she goes back stage, and she nearly goes back into her cupboard, before pausing a second.

There’s a woman standing in the doorway to the adjoining room.

Face tattoos. And… the other one.

She’s wearing this huge, fluffy, pink thing, and is carving something into the doorframe with a knife.

On stage the band are playing. Eve’s inner adult takes over.

“Uh - aren’t you supposed to be on stage?”

The woman looks at her, and-

-jesus.

“Yes, I know. I am getting to it. I’m just finishing this.”

“What are you… what are you doing?”

The woman shrugs.

“I write my name every gig. So people know I’ve been here.”

Eve twists her head to one side, and tries to read.

“Vil-“

“Villanelle. Where are we?”

Eve blinks. “Uh. Manchester?”

“Thank you” Villanelle turns to look at her. Eve feels… inspected. Examined.

“Who are you?”

Outside, the crowd are getting louder. Eve stares at Villanelle.

“I’m… Eve. I’m the Dammit Janets’ manager.”

“Are you going to watch me?” And then Villanelle looks her up and down, in a gesture that Eve struggles with, before ultimately categorising as ‘rude’.

“Uh, I have loads of paperwork…”

Villanelle stares at her for a moment longer, and then moves past her. Eve is drowned in her perfume.

“Your loss. I’ll lick the microphone for you.”

It’s such a bizarre sentence Eve thinks she’s misheard her.

“wha-?”

“Bye Eve. Enjoy your paperwork.” And then Villanelle’s gone.

The yells of the crowd get louder. 

Eve nearly follows her onto the stage, she feels an unholy pull to just walk out there after her.

She shakes her head.

“What the fuc- Oh. Hey.”

Hugo has appeared next to her.

“She’s fucking hot.”

“Stop… objectifying her.”

On stage, Villanelle murmurs _’Fuck you Manchester’_ into the mic, by way of greeting, before the chords of the guitar change and the first song kicks in.

“I’m going to seduce her.”

Something about the way he says it makes Eve snort.

“Sure Hugo. Good luck with that.”

“Nicely. Come on Eve, you know I have moves.”

“Can you just… go do your vocal warm ups, or something.”

“You know that we don’t actually fucking do that, right Eve?”

…..

After another three songs, Eve gives up, and exits her store cupboard again.

The crowd have been steadily getting louder, but Eve hasn’t heard any singing for a few minutes now. The beat of the song is still going, the guitarist maintains a steady easy riff, but-

When Eve peers around the corner of backstage, Villanelle is motionless on the centre of the stage, posing like a statue.

Eve stares.

jesus- She looks-

Suddenly Villanelle relaxes, looks around herself, and suddenly makes direct eye contact with Eve.

Villanelle smiles slightly, waves a hand at the band, and saunters towards her, coming around the corner so she is hidden from the crowd. Eve panics automatically.

_“What are you doing? You are in the middle of a set.”_

“I know. Take your hair down.”

“You can’t just abandon the gig-”

“Take your hair down.”

Eve stares at Villanelle, and then reaches her hand up, tugging the tie out of its place. And then, self conscious under Villanelle’s scrutiny, she reaches up to fluff it up, before hating herself.

Villanelle stares at her, eyes wide.

Eve feels… jesus, what the fuck is happening to her?

Villanelle lifts the microphone to her mouth.

_”You should wear it down all the time”_ she says matter of factly, announcing this to fivehundred people.

Eve is furious.

Villanelle grins at her, before spinning on her heel, walking out onto the stage with one arm outstretched.

_”This isn’t for you”_ she growls into the microphone.

The crowd goes wild.

…..

That was nearly two years ago.

A lot has happened since. 

But Eve remembers the first time like yesterday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> @yotoob on twitter, tumblr, etc
> 
> SPONSORED BY BERRY (thank you for the never ending inspiration/advice/ideas/demands)


	2. Make an Impact

…..

Hugo knows how to write a song.

Eve admits this begrudgingly, which is ridiculous because her career is tied to his success, to the band’s success. And she’d never tell him. But… they’re good songs.

She doesn’t ever listen to the Dammit Janets' songs deliberately. They are on none of her playlists. She has never bought an album.

But she’s surrounded by the songs, played live, strummed quietly at the back of the tour bus, sung by raucous crowds at the ends of gigs…. so she can’t help but know them.

And they are good songs.

…..

The Dammit Janets rise quickly.

Three weeks after the gig in Manchester ( _fuck you Manchester_ ) Eve hears Hugo’s voice for the first time on the radio, purring through the opening line of the second single from their debut album.

She rolls her eyes and switches station, but Eve feels a little thrill anyway, a job satisfaction linked to the fact that the P.R. team are clearly helping them make an impact.

The band’s account crosses half a million twitter followers soon after.

Hugo’s personal account crosses two million the next day, which prompts Hugo to put in a rider request for two million condoms.

“Hugo, you cannot fuck the fourteen year olds, there are _rules_ -”

“Eve they’re not all fourteen. Some of these women are-”

“Please just shut the fuck up. I’m going to get someone from the record company to talk to you about how to not get yourself thrown in jail for inappropriate twitter use, do not do _anything_ online until I say so.”

“Sure… but can I have like… some condoms. Just as a congratulatory-”

“Please leave.”

He does seem to have sex appeal, Eve concedes. For someone who would otherwise not look out of place as a Victorian chimney sweep, he does saunter around stage as if he is attempting to seduce everyone in the room, roadies _and_ equipment included.

Eve makes a point of not watching The Dammit Janets perform. She’s busy, and Hugo has enough fans. Plus she feels that Hugo would be harder to control if he thought Eve was anything close to a _fan_.

…..

If the Dammits rise quickly, the Kill Commanders just explode.

The record label that Eve works for signs them almost immediately (on Eve’s recommendation). And suddenly they’re everywhere. 

And because the Kill Commanders appeal is directly tied up in Villanelle… Villanelle is everywhere.

Breathless reviews in music magazines, and suddenly everyone is talking about her, and then the radio playlists, and then the bookings for festivals…

“It’s not like her songs are even that good.” Hugo announces tartly.

“They’re not her songs” Eve says absently. “The lead guitar and drummer are the main song writing team, apparently. She just turns up in the pink dress and does her thing.”

“Well…” Hugo grumbles “…it’s not like her ‘thing’ is even that good.”

“It’s not a competition Hugo” Eve says mildly. “Or are you still pissed that she wouldn’t fuck you?”

“Yes?” Hugo grins, to show that he doesn’t really mean it. “Obviously. Though she’s more into girls, according to the rumours, so-”

“How do you know that?” Eve asks, looking up at him a bit too quickly. Hugo grimaces at her.

“How do you not know that, Eve? Do you even check twitter?”

“Whatever” Eve says flatly, recovering herself. “Just… don’t make a thing, okay?”

Hugo spreads his hands wide.

“Why would I make a ‘thing’? What even is a ‘thing’?”

Eve motions at him. “I don’t know, I won’t know until you’ve done it, but just… refrain from making more work for me. Okay?”

“Okay” Hugo says solemnly.

…..

Eve gets word of the twitter interaction next day.

_@villanelle I’m going to steal your dress next time I see you._

And then, five minutes later:

_@hugogogo yeah. It would suit you, sure._

…..

“Okay, so when I said ‘don’t make a thing’-”

“It was just a joke Eve - isn’t this supposed to be your day off? Why are you calling me?”

Eve pauses, and rests her phone against her forehead.

“Because it would seem like you have started some kind of twitter feud with the Kill Commanders.”

“Well I didn’t, I sent one cheeky tweet and got a cheeky reply.”

“Okay, interesting take, I’ve just had a call from an exec saying that there are three main twitter groupings - one group of your fans defending you from accusations of sexual harassment-”

“It was _one_ tweet-”

“One group of Kill Commander fans who seem to be calling for your execution…”

“Like, I have talked to Villanelle before, this is how we vibe, this is the level of banter-”

“And one group, who I can only assume are on crack, who seem to passionately want you and Villanelle to get married.”

Hugo laughs. “They’re the ones I’ll take through to boot camp. They’re my favs. Have they made any manips yet?”

“Whatever, this is not a good thing.”

“Bet it is… what did the exec have to say?”

Eve rolls her eyes. “… He was calling me to congratulate me on the dramatic uptick of social media mentions.”

“Ha. Vindicated!”

“Just. Don’t fuck around with this, I’m not sure how it is going to play out. Give me a minute to get my head around it.”

“Sure. Send me any fanfic links you find.”

Eve hangs up.

…..

Twitter is exhausting, is the conclusion Eve reaches by the end of the week.

She sends all of the pictures she can find of Hugo wearing Villanelle’s dress directly onto him, and ignores all his replies.

…..

Journalists get hold of it. For the next round of press that comes up, for the upcoming tour, every interview contains reference to the Kill Commanders.

“There’s some tension there, wouldn’t you say?”

Hugo sits back in his chair, splaying his legs in front of him in a fashion that has Eve wanting to kick him.

“I’m certainly feeling tense; you’ll have to ask Villanelle if she’s feeling any tensions.”

 _Great,_ Eve thinks. _That’s the theme of the entire article set._

…..

“It’s all publicity Eve, god will you lighten up? It’s just a joke, Villanelle knows it’s a joke, the fans know it’s a joke…”

“It is… unprofessional.” Eve hisses. Hugo rolls his eyes. 

“Okay Eve, but you are literally managing a rock star, how professional did you think things were going to be?”

…..

The next time Eve meets Villanelle, it is backstage at a festival.

Eve had known that she would be there. But the Dammits were playing on Friday night, and the Kill Commanders’ set was Sunday afternoon, and Eve had assumed that-

Anyway. They meet. In one of the beer tents.

Or rather, Hugo and Villanelle meet, and because the record company she works for are cynical bastards when it comes to publicity, there is a photographer on hand as well.

Eve is aware that Villanelle is there even before Hugo is, there’s just something about the atmosphere in the tent. It’s a breathless, starry eyed tension, just edging over to fear because nobody knows exactly what the unpredictable Villanelle is going to do.

Hugo doesn’t seem to feel any of this atmosphere.

“So can I have your dress then?”

Villanelle is eating chips, mayo on one corner carton and ketchup on the other, like some kind of barbarian. She glances up at him, slides her eyes over towards Eve, and then goes back to Hugo.

Eve can hear the rapid fire capture of the camera.

“No,” Villanelle says. “I only have one.”

Hugo grins.

“So I will have to steal it.”

Villanelle shrugs, sitting back in her chair.

“It’s in my trailer. But if you steal it…” Villanelle pauses, picking up a chip, inspecting it, thoughtful. “I don’t know what I’d do. But it would probably be…” Villanelle looks around, seeming to enjoy the instant audience. She grins at Hugo. “Unpleasant.”

Hugo grins back, shoving his hands in his pockets like the problematic lead of the worse rom-com in existence. “Can’t wait” he says.

Villanelle’s gaze slides to Eve again.

_Don’t say anything, don’t say anything, don’t say anything, please don’t say anything, not with all these people here…_

Villanelle doesn’t say anything, just nods once in acknowledgement, and then looks away.

Eve can’t tell if she is relieved or not.

…..

A couple of hours later, the Dammit Janets are about to go on stage. 

Eve is _not_ going to watch, even though she is tempted. But it has been a long while now, of Eve pointedly not watching the Dammits just to wind up Hugo. And so she doesn’t want to break the habit, even though the early evening sunshine is calling to her, and this is easily the largest crowd that they’ve ever played.

She ends up lurking back stage, far enough away so it is clear to herself and others that she isn’t watching, but obviously there’s no escaping the thud of the speakers. She’s found a spot of privacy, to the side of some roadie trailers, and Eve sighs with relief, grateful for the respite from all the eyes.

Eve has her phone in her hand, and she’s blindly checking her emails, when there’s a knock on the side of the trailer next to her.

It’s Villanelle.

“You are hard to find.”

“I’m not hiding” Eve says, automatically.

Villanelle grins. And… it’s odd. Eve has never seen her smile before. Villanelle doesn’t smile in any of the publicity shoot, doesn’t smile on stage.

Eve stares at the ink on Villanelle’s cheek.

“Does it hurt?” she blurts out, unable to regulate herself even slightly. “There? When you get a tattoo there?”

Villanelle raises her hand, and touches her cheek, as though she’s only just remembered the tattoo.

“Yes. Like a bitch. I usually say no, but… yeah.”

Eve stares at her. She isn’t wearing her usual dress, but instead a too big white shirt and some skinny jeans. 

She looks different. Private.

Villanelle tips her head to one side.

“Why aren’t you watching your Hugo?”

“Oh, he’s not… I mean. He’s not, we’re not… dating, or anything-”

Eve swallows the end of her sentence, and then abruptly wishes that something would swallow her, because in what world would Villanelle think, that she and Hugo _were dating?_

“No, I know you aren’t dating. I was just wondering why you aren’t supporting your band?”

“I, um. I don’t watch them. It’s a habit. Tradition.”

“A tradition?” Villanelle says curiously, as though Eve is impossibly bizarre. 

Eve strikes out for normal.

“I usually use the quiet time to catch up with my emails.”

Villanelle doesn’t say anything for a moment. During this quiet time, the thud of the speakers vibrates through the soles of Eve’s shoes.

“Will you watch me? On Sunday? Or is there a tradition about that?”

Eve is being mocked.

“Oh uh, no, I’m not due to be at the festival, I mean, I’m not staying.”

Villanelle looks at her for a long time, and then looks away.

“You should. I’m really good.”

“They’re not your songs though” Eve blurts out, before she can stop herself.

She doesn’t even know what point she is making.

Villanelle doesn’t seem to care, and shrugs with one shoulder.

“You should come watch me. I want you to come watch me.”

“Well… I’ll have to…” Eve fumbles with her phone, as though she is checking her diary. “I… don’t know if I can-”

Villanelle sighs, and then abruptly turns away.

“Okay. I understand. See you around I guess.”

Eve watches her go, feeling as though that couldn’t really have gone much worse.

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Thank you berry for plotting help.
> 
> @yotoob on twitter, yotoob on ko-fi if you wanna... you know....
> 
> SPONSORED BY THE BBC'S COVERAGE OF GLASTONBURY, THANK YOU BEEB


	3. She Knows She Shouldn't

The Kill Commanders are at the top of the UK album chart.

It’s great news, obviously. Great for the record company, great for the Dammits (because their fortune seems to be inextricably linked to Villanelle and the Kill Commanders), and great for Villanelle.

Is it though?

Eve has started watching youtube performances of the Kill Commanders. Late at night, when she knows she shouldn’t.

Performances, interviews, the music videos…

She can’t tell if Villanelle is having fun.

Eve knows that it’s just a performance. The mystique. Everyone’s got a thing, she supposes. When a band _is_ the lead, they’ve got to have a thing. But Villanelle looks low key pissed the entire time that she performs.

Villanelle gets compared in the press to Beth Ditto, or Karen O, or Debbie Harry, and a whole bunch of others that are too cool for Eve to be familiar with, but none of it is correct. 

Villanelle just looks so goddamn bored all the time. But there’s something about her disdain for the crowd on stage that just seems to make the crowd want to work harder. Villanelle’s an asshole, but they love it. 

She does this… sometimes, Villanelle will pick one person in the crowd. It’s always a woman. And Villanelle will do the entire performance for her. She will only talk to her, she will only look at her, she will apologise to her that everyone else is here… and the only time the rest of the crowd get any recognition is when Villanelle tells them all to shut the fuck up because they’re being too loud. Eve has literally _no idea_ how Villanelle is getting away with it, but the crowds keep coming, and the hysteria is growing, and the press is falling over themselves trying to figure out who the true Villanelle is, the real face behind the mask, and etcetera, etcetera…

So Eve watches her videos, late at night, when she knows she shouldn’t.

And the terrible thing is that Eve knows this is part of Villanelle’s trick. There will be thousands of others, just like her, scouring the internet for every second of footage they can find, hoping to figure Villanelle out, to solve the mystery, to be the _only one_ who _understands_ her, the only one who has found the truth behind the bullshit…

Eve stays up until two in the morning for weeks on end, even though she is meant to be getting up at six thirty the next day, just because she’s fascinated by Villanelle. She’s fascinated by the bullshit, the performance, the arrogance, the sheer wilful rudeness of it all.

And Eve can’t find a single second of footage where Villanelle drops the act, and interacts with people in the way that she interacted with Eve.

(She doesn’t want that footage to exist)

…..

The Kill Commander’s manager is equally bizarre.

Eve has orbited Carolyn Marten’s for a while now, theirs has been an overlapping world of occasional board meetings and coffees in quiet corners and an unspoken acknowledgement of the fact that they are two women in a man’s world.

Eve likes her, but she’s as weird as fuck.

Natural then, that she and Villanelle are a perfect fit.

Carolyn doesn’t even seem to try and manage Villanelle. She just… allows her to exist, and doesn’t try to curb Villanelle’s worst excesses. Eve knows that she complains about Hugo, but Hugo is nothing compared to Villanelle, who once spent an entire live studio interview pretending to not be Villanelle. She tried to convince the extremely confused host for the entire segment that she was not Villanelle, but rather some French au pair who had just wandered on to set. Villanelle didn’t drop the act at _all_. She didn’t speak a word of English. Eve would have been losing her mind. Carolyn just seems to shrug.

“She wanted your number, by the way. She was most insistent on it.”

This is announced in passing, Carolyn is just leaving the main offices, and Eve is just arriving. 

“I- really?”

“Yes, Villanelle seems very annoyed that you will not come to watch her perform. She has become fixated on it.”

“Oh” says Eve, startled and not a little flustered. “Oh, um-”

“So I gave it to her.”

“What? Are you… you just gave her my number?”

Carolyn blinks.

“Yes? Of course. That way she can pester you about it. Leave me out of it, goodness knows I’m busy enough.”

……

Eve stares at her phone for the next two weeks like it’s a grenade missing it’s pin.

She can’t imagine… exchanging texts with Villanelle, she doesn’t even know what that would look like. Exchanging texts is what people do when they’re relaxing, kicking back at the end of the day… Eve can’t imagine Villanelle kicking back at the end of the day, in her mind’s eye, Villanelle is always on stage, or getting high in an alley way, or exposing a patch of her skin for another tattoo, rolling her eyes at the pain with a grin half hidden behind her teeth.

_Why won’t you come and watch me?_

Eve feels every one of her blood cells at once.

_You don’t need another audience member._

Eve doesn’t know why her immediate response is to be combative. It’s probably a habit she’s learnt from her interactions with Hugo, where every conversation is an opportunity to score points.

The reply is immediate. _But I have asked you to. You keep turning me down._

Eve… feels like she’s being mocked. In her mind’s eye, she can see Villanelle lying on her bed, some girl on top of her, texting with a smirk.

_You’ve only asked twice, and I was busy both those times. Sorry._

_You should come tonight. We’re playing Sheffield. Doors at 10, but we won’t be on until midnight.”_

Eve stares at her phone.

_I can’t._

_Why not?_

_I’m in London. I’m in my bed._

There is a long pause. Eve can imagine Villanelle laughing, rolling her eyes, showing the girl how lame she is, and why is Villanelle even texting Eve anyway? What game is this?

_Eve it is only seven thirty. You can be in Sheffield by midnight if you put your mind to it. If you really wanted to see me, you could get here._

Eve can imagine it. It plays out in her mind. She gets out of bed, puts clothes on, gets down to St Pancras, train journey for two hours, arrive at Sheffield, find the gig venue, wait in line, buy a ticket… and then Villanelle is on stage. They lock eyes. 

And Villanelle smirks at her, now aware that Eve will catapult herself out of bed and travel for hours, just because Villanelle told her to.

No. Absolutely not.

_I’m not coming to Sheffield… look when you do play London next?_

There’s no reply.

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, thank you barry for inspiring
> 
> @yotoob on twitter
> 
> SPONSORED BY WATCH GLOW ON NETFLIX ffs


	4. Better Instincts

It’s the only time that Villanelle messages her. 

Eve doesn’t know what to do with herself. Turning inside out doesn’t seem to be an option, so instead Eve is left with this weird physical sensation of wrongness, all the time, like she was running down the stairs and the bottom step came too soon. She’s staggering on a flat surface, waiting to find her regular rhythm again.

But it never seems to arrive.

…..

“Eve, come for a drink with us.”

“Hugo, I’m not coming for a drink with you guys.”

“Eve, why are you so determined to not allow us to be friends? I swear I’m not trying to trick you, or be an asshole, I’m just asking you to come out for a drink with us? It’s a celebration, for god’s sake.”

Eve opens her hotel door. Hugo is leaning on the door frame, one forearm braced against the door jam.

He is a bit of a relentless little tit, but they have been working together, very successfully, for nearly a year and a half now. She supposes it might be time for a slight lessening of hostilities.

“I mean… I guess you guys have just been nominated for a couple of Brits…”

Hugo grins slowly at her. “That is true… thanks to you, really. Nothing to do with us. All down to you, and the incredible way that you manages us. You really organise those venues in a way that gets us critical recognition.”

Eve rolls her eyes, putting up a show of reluctance. Hugo laughs.

“Come on Eve… do you know how many women would die to be in your position? Hugo from the Dammit Janets begging you to come out for a drink with him?”

“See, it’s shit like that which makes me want to say no-”

“Yeah, well we only want you with us as long as you are fighting against your better instincts the entire time.”

Eve stares at him for a couple of seconds. Hugo grins at her.

“Loving the silence Eve. Very effective use of the pause to demonstrate inner conflict. You are going to sail through your drama GCSE.”

“Fine. Let me get my coat.”

…..

It’s just her, the band, and the various hangers on - best friends, Hugo’s girl of the month, the promoter who claims he can get them in to the most exclusive venues in London, the never ending requests for selfies…

Eve does her best to relax. She ignores the fact that she is at least ten years old than everyone here, and she drinks her drink.

This is meant to be one of the best moments of the job. The band that she manages were just nominated for multiple awards. This celebration is supposed to be the fun bit.

The Kill Commanders were also nominated in similar categories, because there’s no escaping them. There’s no escaping her, Eve thinks, as she checks her phone, wondering if maybe-

No. She hasn’t.

Eve wonders if Carolyn is currently out partying with Villanelle. The mental images jars so hard Eve almost feels her brain flinch, and she smiles to herself.

…..

“We’re going to an exec’s house. Someone high up. Come on. It’ll be more relaxed than this, less people playing it cool.”

“Ah-” Eve looks at her watch. Hugo comes to stand next to her, peering at it owlishly.

“What does the watch say?”

“It says it’s late.”

Hugo grabs her shoulders.

“Come on Eve, be a little bit impulsive for me. We want you to party with us. Come for one drink - look I’ll pay for your taxi home.”

And… well Eve has been feeling extremely boring recently. Like maybe everything could be different, if she’d just accept an offer for once.

“Fine. But only if there is food.”

…..

And now here they are. 

This is better, Eve decides, as she finds a bag of bread sticks and opens them. She’s in an extremely nice kitchen, and there’s industry people all over the house that she half recognises, and then entire scene could be taken from her university days (although with a significant kitchen quality up grade.)

Brit nominations night is always more fun than the actual Brit awards evening, because there are more winners, and no award ceremony to sit and stress through.

Hugo is somewhere. Eve doesn’t need to know where. She’s fine here, she has breadsticks, and people to chat with, and a bottle of beer in her hand.

“Eve!”

That’s Hugo, yelling from somewhere else in the house. She groans, and goes to find him.

“What?”

He’s holding the phone to his ear, and motions frantically at her.

“Say “I am here” into the phone.” He holds the phone out to her. Eve laughs, and then says “I am here” very slowly into the phone. Hugo grins at her, giving her a thumbs up, and speaking into the phone again.

“See, she’s here- what, no she hasn’t got concussion, she’s just joking around… okay so you’ll come? Excellent. See you in a bit.”

“Who’s that?” Eve asks, already panicking and regretting the concussion tone.

Hugo looks at her triumphantly.

“Villanelle. She’s coming. But she said she’d only come if you were here, fuck knows why, but it was easier to just prove you were here rather than convince her otherwise…”

“Oh” says Eve. “Oh.”

“So don’t fucking leave until she gets here, I have a lot of credibility riding on my ability to summon Villanelle out of thin air, don’t fuck this up for me.”

“Oh” says Eve, again.

…..

She’s not… hiding.

Eve is just… extremely interested in the contents of this bookshelf.

And then, when the background noise of the house party takes on a slightly more urgent tone, a tone that somehow signifies to Eve that Villanelle has arrived… she just stays very interested in the books.

“Look, where is she… ah! Eve. Look, she’s here, training to be a librarian. Eve, say hello, don’t be a dick.”

Jesus, Eve would give anything, _anything_ , to not exist right now. She should have gone home sooner, but Hugo had been persuasive, and then there had been her own thoughts, telling her that this time it was different, this time it was Villanelle coming to her, so clearly the power dynamic would be radically different-

Villanelle grins at her. She’s wearing a leather jacket, and then a shirt under that, gaping wide and low so that Eve can see the ink spread across her chest, lower than Eve’s eyes can track.

“How’s your head?” Villanelle asks, somehow managing to sound bored whilst grinning widely.

Eve, idiot that she is, actually reaches up to her head, before remembering.

“I don’t… I don’t have concussion.”

“Thank god” says Villanelle, solemnly. Hugo rolls his eyes at Eve, and then nudges Villanelle’s elbow.

“Yeah, she doesn’t, she’s just like that all the time… listen, you want a drink? Come see what there is…”

…..

Eve had no plan for the evening, obviously.

But if she had had a plan, it would not have involved Eve drinking alone on a stranger’s couch whilst the rest of the party seems to be happening in a separate room, somewhere upstairs.

And fuck Villanelle, really. She makes a whole thing to Hugo about only coming if Eve is there, and doesn’t speak to her once except to make a joke at her expense?

She should just go. 

Eve has told herself this three times, but then, when there is a particularly loud shout of laughter from upstairs, Eve decides it again, and this time means it.

She’s just finding her coat from the multitude by the door, when the door upstairs opens. 

“No, I _swear to you_ , give me like… five minutes. Maximum-” It’s Villanelle, calling back into the room, over the indiscriminate shouts coming from everyone else. She closes the door with a click, and then turns. She stops when she sees Eve.

“Oh. You’re not going, are you?”

Eve nods, and then gestures at her coat.

“Yeah… didn’t seem to be much point in staying.”

Villanelle comes trotting down the stairs, and she’s pulling a joint from behind her ear.

“Come smoke with me. Outside, in the back garden.”

“Oh, I don’t smoke.”

Villanelle gives her a side long glance.

“Then come look at the plants? Come on, you’ve already got your coat on, and the back garden isn’t in Sheffield-”

It’s nearly pitch black in the garden, the only light coming from the patio doors. Eve glances up automatically at the upstairs windows, but they’re all dark - the rest of the party must be in one of the rooms at the front of the house.

Villanelle jogs down a couple of steps to the grassed patch of the garden, and then looks back up at Eve.

“You can’t see the plants from up there Eve.”

Eve follows her.

“I can’t really see them from down here either.”

“Mmm. You really interested in the plants?”

Eve’s eyes are adjusting. She can see the shape of Villanelle’s mouth now. The metal of her piercings.

“Not… really.”

Villanelle looks at her.

“Stand here” she murmurs, indicating the wall of the shed next to them.

Eve feels herself flush, feels her want, so long dormant, kick into over drive.

“Here? Why… here?”

“Do you not like sheds?”

Eve leans her back against the shed, watching Villanelle. She shrugs.

“I don’t have strong feelings about them.”

“Hmm” Villanelle steps closer into her, and then her hand is nearly at Eve’s lips. Eve realises she is offering the unlit joint again. “And you really don’t smoke?” she murmurs.

Eve shakes her head slightly, and then says “I’m not interested in smoking.” God, and she feels so-

Villanelle smiles slightly. 

“What are you interested in then?”

Eve feels her own lips part. 

“Why don’t you find out?”

Villanelle tucks the joint away into her jacket pocket, and then steps even closer.

“I think I already know” she whispers, and then she is kissing her.

Eve opens her mouth almost immediately, and Villanelle licks at her lips, before kissing her again, slipping her tongue at the corner of Eve’s mouth in a way that drives Eve crazy.

She’s grabbing at Villanelle’s jacket now, and Villanelle leans into her, presses her whole body against Eve, who moans a little at the contact, the pressure tripping hundreds of fuses in her mind.

Villanelle groans, and then kisses her deeply, one hand on the side of Eve’s face, her other arm braced against the shed wall behind Eve’s back. This time when she leans into Eve, it’s with a slight upward motion from the tips of her toes, so it’s not so much a lean as it is a rub, a thrust of her hips, and Eve can’t believe that she is actually contemplating allowing herself to be fucked against a stranger’s shed, but if Villanelle keeps doing that then-

She moans again, more intensely, and Villanelle lets out a little gasping half laugh, as if she can’t believe it, and then-

Suddenly, there’s more light. And then there’s a banging, and cheers.

Eve pushes Villanelle away from her.

Upstairs, a window that had been pitch black is now illuminated, and there are many faces presses against the glass. Hugo’s is one of them, and he throws open the window.

“Villanelle you absolute dog-”

Villanelle is fumbling in her jacket pocket, and produces her phone. Eve can see that there is a timer running.

“That was… four minutes and twenty three seconds Hugo, you really going to back out of the bet now?”

“Well, I didn’t know that my manager was that wet for you, jesus-”

“But a bet is a bet Hugo, in front of witnesses-”

“Ugh, _fine_ , you win, now come back up will you, we have terms to agree to.”

There are a few disappointed noises, and Hugo turns his back on them and shoos the rest of the onlookers away from the window.

Villanelle grins at Eve, slightly sheepish.

“He thought I couldn’t get you to make out with me in under five minutes. If I could, he said he’d wear my pink dress to the Brit awards.”

Eve stares at her.

And then, anger, shame, and disappointment bloom all at once.

“You’re an asshole” Eve whispers.

Villanelle looks a little contrite, but shrugs her shoulders. “It’s not a big deal; it’s not like-”

“Fuck you” Eve says, and then she leaves the party.

Four minutes and twenty three seconds too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, thanks to Berry for the plotting advice, kkk bjs etc
> 
> SPONSORED BY DIRT APPLES
> 
> @yotoob on twitter, follow me it makes me feel important


	5. Half Decent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes, you guys weren't happy last chapter, huh? Sorry that Villanelle exhibited bad behaviour - to be fair, she doesn't kill people in this story. I can't write her as completely innocent.

“Can I just say-”

“No.”

“Can I just say, for the record-”

“No.”

“That I really didn’t know you were going to be so enthusiastic, otherwise I would never have _agreed_ to the terms of the bet-”

“Stop talking.”

“-although I will look great in her dress, but, I didn’t know that there was a ‘thing’ happening there, I just thought I was going to watch Villanelle lamely try to kiss you, only to be met by Fortress Eve…”

“Stop talking.”

“I thought I was going to watch Villanelle fail, not a 15 rated shed fumble-”

Eve puts down her mug on her desk, hard enough to slop some coffee over the side and onto her paper work. She swears, smears her hand over it, and then swears again.

She feels… barely in control of any of her limbs. She’s almost shaking. She’s having to concentrate, every single damn second, on not throwing her coffee at his head.

She glares at him. Hugo takes a step back.

“Fuck off. Never speak to me about this again. Fucking… leave, will you? You got what you want, you all had your entertainment at my expense, stop trying to make nice at me-”

“Eve, I’ve said, it wasn’t like that-”

“Hugo, I will throw you out of the fucking window. Get the fuck away from me.”

….

So that’s the tone for the next two weeks.

She’s furious. 

Mainly with herself, but also mainly with Villanelle, and mainly with Hugo, and mainly with the exec who’s house they’d been in, and mainly with Carolyn for giving Villanelle her number in the first place, and mainly, mainly, mainly. Fuck maths. She has enough rage for everyone.

Hugo is the only person who is actually making a half decent attempt to apologise. And that’s another reason to be enraged, but she’ll cover that later.

Hugo sends her a croissant every morning for the next two weeks. He doesn’t try to talk to her about anything other than the professional things, the areas that Eve can cope with without feeling an uncontrolled desire to stab him with a biro, but he sends her a croissant every morning.

For the first week, Eve doesn’t eat the fucking thing, she just finds someone else and passes it on to them. If she can manage to do it in front of Hugo, all the better.

He sends them to her home as well, in the mornings when she isn’t due to be in work. On the second Sunday, Eve is half picking at an almond croissant whilst watching Andrew Marr, wondering whether Hugo is actually contrite, or just trying to get to a point where he feels a bit safer in Eve’s presence.

She can’t … Hugo had been laughing at her.

But he’s also been the one who had alerted her to the fact that she and Villanelle were being watched, before things had gotten even worse.

And he’d been the one who had waved everyone away from the window so that Eve could face Villanelle without an audience.

Eve rolls her eyes, and picks up her phone.

“Christ Eve, do you know what time it is?”

“It’s a perfectly normal time to call-”

“Eve, it’s still dark out-”

Eve blankly looks out of the window at the bright sunshine.

“Hugo-”

“I know Eve, I know… anyway. What’s up?”

“I was going to thank you for the croissants, but frankly it’s the least you can do.”

“I’ll start sending you a fruit tart as well” Hugo deadpans at her. Eve huffs out a small grunt of amusement.

There is a small silence, and then Hugo drawls “So… what’s going on Eve?”

Eve sighs, and leans back on the couch, pulling her legs up and round so she is lying on it. She rubs a hand over her eyes, and attempts to get the ball rolling.

“You said ‘it wasn’t like that’. So I want to know what it was like.”

“What wasn’t like that?”

Eve glares at the ceiling. “Hugo, I swear to god this is the only time I’m ever going to be okay talking to you about this, so I’m going to need you to do a little of the heavy lifting in this conversation, okay?”

Hugo sighs heavily, and Eve has to listen to him grunt as he stretches.

“Okay, let me just… gather my thoughts here.”

Eve sits up suddenly, gripping the phone hard.

“I need every single detail Hugo, and if you laugh at me for one second I’m going to make your life a living hell. I’m your manager, you know I can do that.” 

Hugo laughs at her, in direct contrast of what she just said, and then starts speaking.

“ Okay look… as far as I can remember… she was complaining about Carolyn. That’s how it started. We were upstairs with a bunch, her band were there, and we were talking managers. She was saying that it was cool that you had come out with us, that Carolyn just blanks them the whole time. I said that you were pretty hard to get to warm up too. And then Villanelle said that she reckoned she could get you warm up in five minutes. I said that would be impossible, because, duh, you aren’t very chill.”

Eve grunts in acknowledgement of this. Hugo continues.

“And then she said she could make out with you under five minutes. And I was laughing, you know, because the audacity of it. I thought it was all just bravado bullshit, so I said if she could do that then I’d wear her dress to the Brits, you know, like, ‘I’ll eat my hat’. That sort of thing. And then she says ‘It’s been on the cards for a while now anyway.’”

“She said that?” Eve interrupts, blushing.

“She said that” Hugo repeats. “And then I said whoa, what? Because that was… I didn’t know there was an undercurrent, I’ve already told you. But then she was already out of the door, and then the next thing I know we’re going full Notting Hill in the garden.”

Eve closes her eyes, flinching against the memory of all those people, looking down at her, cheering. “You should have said something _before_ she started kissing me” she bites out.

“Yes, except I still didn’t fully believe it, and then I couldn’t believe my _eyes_ , and then… then I banged on the window. It was only like five seconds. I was thunderstruck, Eve. I was rooted.”

“Fuck you” Eve says, but it’s not quite as bitter now, and Hugo must notice.

“Yeah, I know, I should have… I don’t know. Yelled ‘Eve! It’s a trap!’ But… I mean it’s not exactly damaged your reputation. You are now the woman that Villanelle wants to make out with.”

Eve sighs heavily. “No, I’m the woman who was no one and now is… jesus I don’t know. Villanelle’s practical joke of choice.” And the hurt in her chest… well. It hurts.

Hugo clicks his tongue at her, down the phone line.

“Okay but I don’t think it was like that.”

Eve rolls her eyes. “So what was it like Hugo, jesus-”

“I think she thought you would react differently. She was all… sad and quiet after you left.”

Eve blinks. “What? What different ways were there for me to react?”

“Like… okay, bear with me… I’m a rock star.”

Eve laughs despite herself. “Hugo I swear to god-”

“I said _bear with me_ \- I’m a rock star, I love attention. I do stupid shit sometimes, but the more people watching me the better. And so… let’s assume that Villanelle thinks the same way. Cause she’s a performer, and entertainer, for all that she pretends that she hates it.”

Eve grunts, allowing this. Hugo continues.

“So maybe… I don’t know, maybe she thought that if she’d want an audience then you’d think like that too.”

Eve doesn’t say anything for a moment, considering this.

“That’s the dumbest-”

“Eve, she’s spent the last year of her life surrounded by people clamouring for a bit of her attention. You know the number of fans who’d kill to have Villanelle publicly make out with them? Maybe she thought that’d you’d value it.”

Eve scoffs.

“Well she thought pretty fucking wrong.”

“Yeah clearly…but I reckon that is how she was approaching it… I think she thought she was, I don’t know, being romantic… like, here… public acknowledgement that I want to kiss you. What more can you want?”

Eve thinks about this for a couple of moments. 

“I think…. I want to throw her out of a window.”

“Eve, you can’t keep threatening that and not following through, it’s going to lose all it’s meaning…”

…..

The other reason to be enraged…

Villanelle hasn’t contacted her.

Eve is snarling at her phone, with every passing hour that she checks and there is no contact from Villanelle.

Not even… an apology? Really?

She’s seething.

But then… after her conversation with Hugo, she feels like she’s gone off the boil slightly. 

_Public acknowledgement that I want to kiss you_ …

Eve doesn’t necessarily think it is true. It just seems a little bit too glib, and she has a suspicion that Hugo had been running this conversation through his head multiple times, readying himself with the phrases and reasoning most likely to ease Eve’s rage. 

But if it is, then… well, it’s not much of an improvement, to mentally categorise Villanelle as deeply stupid rather than wildly offensive, but it’s a… start?

Eve grits her teeth against the tug she feels, the slight, ever so slight, temptation to lose some of her anger.

Is this just what Villanelle does? Eve almost says ‘is this just what people like Villanelle do’, but that side steps the obvious issue that Eve has never met, never heard of, anyone like Villanelle. 

She doesn’t know why she is stretching for excuses.

When it reaches three weeks, Eve picks up her phone.

The last phone interaction they had was Eve blanking Villanelle over Sheffield.

Eve sighs.

_I can’t believe you haven’t even tried to say sorry._

Eve’s thumbs hover as she tries to think a follow up statement, and then nearly drops her phone when she sees that Villanelle is already writing back.

_Yes, it’s because I am scared of you._

Eve feels an almost overwhelming urge to drop kick her phone across the room.

_Are you fucking with me?_

There is a longer pause, a longer amount of time writing.

_Would you like the obvious joke, or shall I skip that and answer properly?_

Eve’s blood is boiling, but there is also a weird kind of elation, to find some kind of outlet for all her anger.

_Tell a joke and we’re done._

_So, I’m not very good at empathy._

Eve stares at her phone. Villanelle keeps writing.

_And it means that sometimes I do things that I think aren’t a problem because they aren’t a problem for me._

_This is… a really shitty defence by the way. Fucking hell…_

_Yeah… I know._

Eve abruptly feels exhausted. She rests her phone against her forehead. 

She doesn’t know why she has allowed herself get this… she’s only met Villanelle a handful of times. It doesn’t feel reasonable, proportional, for Eve to be feeling like this.

When she looks at her phone again-

_My friend pointed out to me that I overstepped. But then, when you didn’t contact me, I thought that maybe it wasn’t that big a deal for you. Elena said it would be a big deal, but I thought… I don’t know maybe you didn’t care…and so…_

There’s a long pause. Eve stares at the dots on her phone.

_…and so, I don’t know._

Eve realises that she’s just about ready to give up.

She’s done for the day.

Villanelle is still typing.

Eve turns off her phone.

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading
> 
> @yotoob on twitter.
> 
> SPONSORED BY REDEMPTION ARCS


	6. Infinite Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone - the comments section has been a bit fraught recently. 
> 
> if you want to leave feedback criticising the character's choices, that is OF COURSE cool beans and I love it, but please try and format your comment in a way which is a bit more - 'hi writer, thank you for writing, I'm super invested in this story, and that it why I am a VOLCANO OF RAGE at Eve/Villanelle/whomever, please let me tell you about it, and thank you for creating this deep anguish with your words, can't wait to read more'... etc. 
> 
> I love creating passion in your responses, but if it is just a sentence telling me that Eve's motives or whatever don't add up, then I'm going to be a little bit sensitive about it. I'M DELICATE, BASICALLY. AN EASILY BRUISED PEACH.
> 
> love you all x

Villanelle stays awake until three in the morning, staring at her phone.

Eve doesn’t answer.

Villanelle checks her last few message again.

_I want to apologise. But I’m never very good at them_

_I like you_

_I didn’t mean to fuck it up - I didn’t think things through properly_

_I’d like to get to know you better_

_Eve?_

Villanelle frowns, and rests the phone on her chest. She’s in bed, and the lights are out. Her eyes hurt from looking at the phone screen in the darkness. 

The girl in Villanelle’s bed rolls over on to her side, and reaches out a hand to Villanelle, brushing down her side.

“Babe… come here?”

Villanelle sighs, and places her phone on the hotel bedside table.

The girl wiggles closer, and Villanelle allows herself to sink down into the warmth.

She can’t remember this girl’s name. It’s not a big problem though, not really, not when ‘babe’ seems to be the communication method of choice.

“I can’t sleep” Villanelle mumbles, and then wonders why she said anything at all. 

The girl takes Villanelle’s hand and kisses it, like that is going help.

“Is there anything I can do to help you sleep?”

“Mmm, no.” Villanelle shifts forward, and presses a quick kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry I was looking at my phone for so long; try to sleep.”

Eventually, after what feels like a lifetime, the girl’s breathing changes, evens out and slows.

Villanelle, with infinite care, rolls over and checks her phone again.

Nothing.

…..

The next day, after Villanelle has politely said goodbye to the girl called babe, they’re back on the tour bus.

Villanelle smiles at Elena, who is flipping through a magazine, and then gestures at the seat next to her.

“Can I?”

“Sure” says Elena easily, lifting her phone and charger off the seat and tossing it in the seat pocket in front of her. 

“How’d you sleep? You have fun with that girl?”

Villanelle shrugs, and then mumbles “Would you believe we just cuddled?”

Elena snorts, and then makes a phone motion with her hand “Hello, is this the Daily Mail? Have I got a story for you-”

Villanelle pulls a face.

“Mmmph, you still are not funny” she says, as she slouches further down in the seat. Elena smiles happily, and then holds her pretend phone to Villanelle’s ear. 

“They’d like a comment.”

Villanelle rolls her eyes.

“They can go fuck themselves” she says solemnly into Elena’s fingertip. Elena winces.

“Oooh, don’t say that to the Daily Mail, they’ll write mean things and then-” she drops her voice to a whisper “-Carolyn will be mad.”

Villanelle looks around herself automatically, wondering if the omnipresent Carolyn is sitting behind them, but it’s just Kenny.

“Hey”

He nods at her.

“Hey”

Villanelle stares at him, and then says “Pretend to be deaf, okay?”

Kenny pops a crisp in his mouth. “Bit of a disadvantage that, a lead guitarist who is deaf.”

“Hasn’t stopped you so far” Elena says blithely. Kenny nods at Villanelle. 

“I can pretend to be deaf.”

“Why is Kenny pretending to be deaf?”

Villanelle sighs, and hauls her phone out of her pocket.

“It’s about Eve.”

Elena groans. The bus ignition splutters into life underneath them, and Elena glances over her shoulder to check their progress as the bus pulls away from the hotel. 

“I thought we said no further conversations until there was something new to discuss.” 

Villanelle shrugs, and holds her phone up, relevant text conversation open.

“Yes, well. There is new content.”

“Oooh…you decided to text her?”

“She text me.” Villanelle can’t help the tiny smile of satisfaction. Elena squints at her suspiciously. 

“ _Really?_ Why would she do that?”

‘Because of my magnetic personality?” 

Elena snorts. “Your magnetic personality needs a smack. Give me your phone.”

Elena furrows her brow as she reads the exchange. Villanelle leans over her shoulder. 

“Don’t mock me.”

“Who even is this person? Why are you being so soft?”

“Shut up… okay, so I want to know why she stopped replying?”

Elena shrugs. “Because you are a moron, even if you send a few semi cute texts.”

“That’s not…. we covered the whole ‘I am a moron’ concept a fair amount after I kissed her, do we need to revisit it?”

“Yes. Daily. Until you understand that you cannot just…fake kiss someone and then expect to still be viewed as a half decent human being.”

“It wasn’t fake, I wanted to kiss her.”

“You fucked up.”

Villanelle sighs, and the rubs at her forehead.

“I know. I know, okay? But… what did I do wrong in the conversation last night?”

“Do I get paid extra for providing this service? Or is this meant to be something I do for fun?”

Villanelle rolls her eyes at Elena, who grins after a second.

“Actually, you are right, I don’t need payment, just watching you be this dumb is payment enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“Vill, she’s a grown woman, and you are playing like she’s twenty years old and going to forgive you after some magical combination of texts. Eve is not going to play this game with you. She’s probably already decided that she never wants to see you again. That’s what I’d have done.”

Villanelle shifts in her seat, slouching down grumpily. “Well she can’t do that. We’re in the same circles. She’s going to see me. It’s inevitable.”

Elena laughs at her. “Sure, cause Eve is definitely going to forgive you if you just keep accidentally on purpose bumping into her. Dead cert. Congrats.”

Villanelle clenches her jaw. “Okay, so what do I do?”

Elena gestures at the phone vaguely. “Something other than texts. You aren’t kids. Find a different way to apologise, and expect her to think you’re a dick for some time afterwards. That’s my professional advice.”

Villanelle groans slightly. Elena eyes her curiously

“Why Eve? Like, don’t get me wrong, she’s an attractive woman- but why is she different? I’ve never seen you like….” Elena waggles a hand. “…this before.”

“Like what?”

“Unsure. Usually you are like… smooth. Suave. And here you are sending hopeful messages like some kind of fuck boy, as though you are expecting that just a period of silence will work as an apology. You should have apologised straight off, _as I told you to_ -”

“I’ve told you, I’m not a chaser-”

“Okay but she texts you once and you are replying within ten seconds to basically try to charm your way out of trouble… hardly standoffish.”

Villanelle takes her phone back from Elena’s unresisting hand, and puts it in her jacket pocket.

“Then what do I do?”

“Think of a way to apologise that doesn’t involve texts, that’d be a good start.”

“Like what?” Villanelle asks, resting her head against the seat wearily. She pulls her phone out again, automatically, to check whether Eve has messaged her in the one second that she wasn’t looking at her phone, and then promptly wincing because she looks like a fucking idiot.

Elena snorts. “I don’t know. Improvise. Get creative.”

“I want her to chase me though.”

“God, you and your precious ego…so make yourself difficult to ignore. Make her come to you, if that’s really the only way you can operate. But Eve will just ignore texts, that’s a fact. Because, as I may have mentioned, you are a moron.”

….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading <3 <3 you are all marvellous.
> 
> @yotoob on twitter, other places
> 
> SPONSORED BY MY BUDDIES


	7. Go To Setting Of Choice

“Villanelle wants to know what your favourite flowers are?”

This is Hugo, who comes sailing past her door on one of those two wheeled hoverboards.

She sighs, and puts down her pen.

“I thought we said you can’t use that in the building.”

There’s a small pause, and Hugo tracks across her door from the opposite direction, looking at her with his arms frozen in a comically high shrug.

“And yet-” he calls, unseen.

Eve stares fixedly at the doorway for a moment, and then, with a sigh, returns to her computer.

Hugo wheels across the doorway again, after an amount of time which would be perfect, comedically, if Eve was amused _at all._

“Flowers Eve? Favourite flowers?”

Eve growls to herself, and shuts her laptop with unnecessary force.

“I will knock you off that thing with a broom-”

In the corridor, Hugo laughs.

“You can’t do that Eve, what if I injure myself horribly?”

Metaphorical broom in hand, Eve steps out into the corridor to find Hugo laboredly performing a three point turn. “All the better” she says grimly, leaning on the doorframe.

Hugo performs a small pirouette, and then steps off the hover board. He grins at her, innocence personified.

“It’s just flowers, Eve? A simple question about flowers.”

It’s been a week since Eve had reached out to Villanelle in order to berate her, and then Villanelle had responded with some texts that had actually made Eve feel… ‘sorry for her’ wasn’t quite the phrase. But definitely something other than burning rage.

Unfortunately for Villanelle, burning rage is pretty much Eve’s go to setting of choice, and so she had ignored the texts, blocked the number, and she was attempting to live out her days never thinking about Villanelle or the Kill Commanders again.

And then, after two days of peace and quiet, suddenly Hugo had started doing… this.

“Why are you doing this for her?”

Hugo puts his hands on his hips, and then checks around him, perplexed. “Doing what?” 

“Asking inane questions.”

“Well, you see… it’s cause we’re best friends.”

Eve chokes down a laugh. “No you are not.”

Hugo holds his pose for a second, and then relaxes. “Okay, true, we are not, _but_ I figured, if I do her bidding… she might like me more.” Hugo pulls a small, speculative face, as though the complete loss of all his dignity might somehow be worth this prize. He continues, waving about himself airily. “I’ve decided I’m a fan, Eve. A Villanelle groupie, if you will. I’ve found my true place in the world, and I am at peace-”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Omg, what was it like to kiss her?”

Eve rolls her eyes, and retreats to her laptop again.

“I really don’t have time for this.”

Hugo follows her, this time with the ridiculous hoverboard underneath his arm. He stops in the doorway, perhaps wise to the fact that Eve wants to throw a book at his head.

“She just wants to know your favourite flowers, you know flowers, they grow, they have leaves-”

“She isn’t allowed to send me flowers” Eve says flatly, not even looking up at him because she’s busy and he’s an idiot.

“Okay, but you wouldn’t tell me your favourite chocolate-”

“That’s because-”

“Or preferred wine, I really thought that wine would get you interested but-”

Eve grits her teeth, and then barely restrains herself from flipping him off.

“Hugo… what the fuck? I mean, really? What the fuck are you doing? I have dealt with this, I have moved on. She can’t just… use you to annoy me into some kind of response.”

Hugo grins at her.

“Oh I think you’ll find she can.”

Eve sighs, and presses two fingers to her forehead, rubbing the space between her brows in an effort to think.

“Tell her… tell her that I don’t want anything that she is offering.”

Hugo gasps dramatically, and then staggers, clutching at his heart.

“Eve. Eve. You have… you have broken… her heart-”

“Okay Hamlet, just wind it down a notch will you.”

Hugo leans on the doorframe, somehow managing to wind it up several notches. “-You have left her on read for… eighty four years” he announces melodramatically.

Eve holds her hands up in the air, almost shrugging because this is something that Villanelle fucked up, and Eve will be damned if the expectation falls upon her to forgive. “That is because _I am not a child._ Or a toy to be played with. So you can tell her…tell her that if she’d had a half way normal approach to anything then things might have been different, but she clearly doesn’t, so we can stop with this whole…” Eve motions vaguely at Hugo “…clown parade.”

Hugo straightens up, suddenly a journalist hunting for a scoop.

“So you are saying that there is something there? There was? A spark?”

Eve groans, and goes back to her laptop.

“Hugo, please fuck directly off.”

“Eve. Seriously, all bullshit aside…She yearns. For forgiveness… for the touch of your hand… the caress of your smile…”

“Fuck _off_ Hugo, I’m trying to work.”

…..

The thing is…

It’s pretty full on.

Hugo is as annoying as fuck, but Eve can’t help but take note of the way that Villanelle has just _unleashed_ him upon her, the most ardent of suitors for the most hopeless of causes.

It continues.

Hugo will not shut up, and as much as Eve hates it… he only ever does it when they’re alone, as though acting under some strict instruction from Villanelle, and…

It is flattering.

Eve has never inspired this sort of pursuit from anyone, ever. 

Obviously she is very busy and has work to do, but… she is flattered.

“You know, if you would just call her back, then I could stop all this.”

Eve gives a small half smile. They’re on a bus, heading up the M1 towards a gig.

“Are you getting bored?”

“No, my stamina is legendary, you should hear my reviews, I can-”

“Okay, no thank you.”

“Do you worry that she will get bored?”

Eve looks up from her phone, blinking. “I- no. I mean. I want her to get bored.”

“Right” says Hugo. “Cause you are hating the fact that she’s thinking about you all the time. Seriously, she sends me about ten messages a day telling me how to compliment you, I’m filtering out a _lot_ of them, you know, for her own good. Her own dignity.”

“That’s-” and god help Eve if she isn’t fighting off a smile. “That doesn’t sound like a person who is about to get bored.”

Hugo shrugs. “Okay, as you like. I would get bored soon, just an fyi. You aren’t exactly giving her much to work with.”

“Hugo” Eve sighs, and Hugo stands up, clearly about to move to another seat.

“Yeah, I know. You’re busy.”

…..

Clearly, what is for the best, is if Villanelle gets bored of her. 

Then they can conclude whatever… _weirdness_ this has been and Eve can get on with not giving a fuck and Villanelle can do the same. 

It’s a month until the Brit Awards. Villanelle will be there. Eve will also have to be there. And so… in an ideal world, all this bullshit would be finished, and Eve can go along to the Brit awards without feeling a low key panic about what ever might happen.

Eve decides all this during the cab ride home. 

And then-

There’s a package on her doorstep.

Eve picks it up cautiously, and then balances it awkwardly on her knee as she fumbles her key in the lock.

She places the package on the kitchen counter, and tosses her bag on to the sofa. She opens the fridge, finds the wine, and pours herself a glass.

If Eve had been asked to explain how she knows, she wouldn’t have been able to answer. 

She just knows.

The packaging is expensive.

Eve’s fingers slide over the matte surface, and then she finds the tab, prising it open cautiously.

Inside is a cloud of tissue paper, and then Eve’s fingers meet with smooth, supple, _expensive…_

It’s a dress. 

Eve lifts it from the box, letting it fall in front of her.

It’s….okay. Wow.

Eve doesn’t think about her clothes very much. She has a professional wardrobe for meetings, which is shirts and blazers, an ‘on the road’ wardrobe mainly consisting of plain tees and jeans, and then a ‘fancy things’ category which is basically three semi decent dresses on rotation.

This dress belongs in the ‘fancy things” category.

Eve swallows a gulp of wine, and then sees the note in the bottom of the box.

_You wouldn’t tell me what your favourite things were. So I had to get you something that would be a treat for me, instead._

Eve is… she re-reads it.

Obviously, as a feminist, she does not wish to be objectified. 

But.

Eve goes upstairs.

Fuck, of course it fits perfectly, fuck, _fuck_ this would be incredibly annoying if it wasn’t so goddamn- 

_She made a mockery out of kissing you_ Eve thinks determinedly. _A performance out of kissing you_ she reminds herself as she turns in the mirror in order to check out her own ass.

Her doorbell sounds.

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading (and thank you for your comments, you are marvellous)
> 
> @yotoob on twitter, challenge me to a duel.
> 
> SPONSORED BY RULE BREAKING AND LATE NIGHT SPELL CHECKS.


	8. Making it a Habit

It’s damn obvious who it is going to be, but Eve has somehow decided that such an outcome would be almost too obvious, and that’s why she opens the door to Villanelle whilst wearing the dress Villanelle sent her.

“Oh.”

Villanelle gives her a small smile, and then her eyes fall. Her smile grows wider.

“You are wearing it.”

Eve crosses her arms against her chest. “That’s… what are you doing here?”

Villanelle tips her head to one side. “I don’t plan on making it a habit. I don’t do this. I don’t come to people. I won’t be coming again.”

“Then why are you here at all-”

“…from now on I’ll only come by invite.”

Eve loses her air.

“Oh, well.”

God there’s a discord here. This is Eve’s home. Villanelle is of.. the media. Of the internet. Of crowded gigs and camera phones and noise and smoke and raucous screams. To have Villanelle on her doorstep is just… bizarre.

Villanelle stares at her. She’s just… immobile. Waiting like a statue. Eve wonders how long the silence would last, if she never spoke. Probably forever. Villanelle would probably stay quiet forever, and walk away without a word unless Eve gives her something at this moment.

Something internal relents.

“Would you…like to come in?”

“That depends on what I’m coming in for.”

Eve feels her spine stiffen, affronted.

“What the hell _do you think_ I’m inviting you in for?”

Villanelle shrugs, abruptly losing all her tension and shifting her weight onto one hip. Eve wonders if it is a direct reaction to Eve’s obvious increased discomfort. 

“A drink would be polite?”

Eve stares at her for a long moment, and then sighs, taking a step back and heading back into her own house, barely flicking her hand to suggest that Villanelle is allowed to come in.

Villanelle follows her.

“Do you like your dress?

“Very nice” Eve says shortly.

Eve can just hear Villanelle murmur “I like it.”

She turns on her heel suddenly. “Look, I’m not someone who plays games. I’m not really impressed with the whole…. mystique. I’m not buying it. I think you are a bullshit artist.”

Villanelle shrugs, arms suddenly comically wide.

“Yes? And? That is obviously what I am, clearly the stage Villanelle is a persona, clearly I’m not actually like that, I’m not a psychopath.”

“Right” says Eve, slightly wrong footed. She takes a further step towards the kitchen counter, and picks up her half finished bottle of wine. “Well, fine, but you don’t have to… lean into it so much.”

Villanelle smiles quietly. “Okay, I understand, you don’t like stage Villanelle that much.”

Eve snorts, because something about having Villanelle in front her is far trickier than just having her compliments relayed to her by Hugo. Her embarrassment is back, and it smarts.

“You don’t understand anything about me.”

Villanelle looks pointedly at the bottle of wine in Eve’s hand, until Eve relents. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Yes please. And enlighten me.”

“What?”

“Enlighten me, what am I not understanding about you?”

Eve pours the glass of wine slowly, playing for time. She picks it up, paces over to Villanelle, hands it to her without allowing her hand to shake or throw it in her face.

“That I am not interested in all of this…. bullshit” Eve manages flatly. She’s pleased with her delivery.

Villanelle looks quizzical, and she tips her head to one side. “Really? You don’t find me interesting?”

“No.”

“So if I checked your internet search history I wouldn’t find anything to do with me?”

Eve struggles to keep her face straight.

“No” is what she says, but it doesn’t come out right and it sounds more like a question and Eve would do anything- anything - to not be wearing a dress from Villanelle as Villanelle smirks in response to her quavering answer.

Villanelle looks around Eve’s kitchen, almost as if she is giving Eve a moment get regain control of her face. “So why am I here?”

Eve shrugs, almost taking the wine glass out of Villanelle’s hand and taking a gulp herself. “I don’t know, you turned up.”

“But why did you invite me in?”

“Because I’m _polite?_ ”

Villanelle looks as though she’s never heard of the concept.

“Bullshit. It’s not just because you’re polite.”

“You don’t know shit.”

Villanelle stares at Eve for a long time, and then takes a sip of wine. Eve can feel her emotions jostling for position, there’s the affront, the anger, the pride, the shame, the overwhelming irritation…. and…

Eve turns away from her, pours her own glass of wine, and then just… stays at the kitchen counter, hiding in plain sight, because it’s just a little too difficult, a little too startling, to have Villanelle in her space like this.

After a moment, Villanelle sighs. “Okay, this isn’t going anywhere. You’re uncomfortable. We’ve exchanged a lot of words, but… don’t seem to be going anywhere, so… I’ll just…”

Eve can hear the clink as Villanelle puts her wine glass down, and then she starts making her way to the door. And Eve is following her, great job Eve, always doing the sensible thing, herding Villanelle out of the house like a stray goose.

“You have a nice house” Villanelle says absently. And then she tosses over her shoulder “And you look incredible in that dress, you should wear it all the time.”

“Yes, well. Thank you for the dress, but please don’t…”

Villanelle stops by the door, and turns to look at her, one hand on the door handle. “Don’t what?”

Eve sighs, and then flicks a hand in the space between her and Villanelle “Carry on. With whatever this… game is.”

Villanelle frowns, looking uncertain for the first time in this encounter. “It’s not a game.”

“Oh please.”

“It’s not a game.”

Villanelle sounds so serious that Eve pauses, actually confused.

“Then.. what is it?”

“Why can’t it just be what it is? Why can’t it just be straightforward?”

“Because-”

“Because?”

“Because I’m still mad with you.”

Villanelle nods, contrite.

“So I have understood. It’s fine. I’m leaving.”

It must the jacket, Eve thinks later. It must be because Villanelle is wearing the same jacket that she wore to that fateful party. And Eve’s fingers can still remember what it felt like to curl around the collar, to tug her closer.

Because that’s exactly what she does. 

Villanelle’s breath on Eve’s lips comes as a little huff of surprise, and Eve rejoices, because she managed to surprise her.

But then everything just falls away like a tower of cards, and Eve opens her mouth, lets Villanelle in, lets her have whatever-

Villanelle moans slightly, and then there’s a hand in Eve’s hair, and Villanelle’s fingers curl into a fist around a section of it near her scalp, and Eve just feels completely undone.

She presses herself up onto her tiptoes, and tries to get closer to Villanelle. She tries to press their bodies together, tries to feel her, feel whatever personal bubble of arrogance that Villanelle must carry around, the one that allows her to send strangers dresses and turn up on strangers doorsteps and kiss strangers in under five minutes.

Eve wonders what the timer would be on now.

Villanelle staggers under the shift in weight, and then Eve’s back is against the wall, and Eve wraps her arms around Villanelle’s neck, cradling her head. Villanelle has one hand on the wall, one hand on the side of Eve’s face, and jesus her lips are so soft, almost too soft, Eve wants to feel the passion, she doesn’t care, she doesn’t care-

“Oh, fuck-” Villanelle whispers against her lips, and then she kisses Eve again.

Eve’s phone buzzes.

Eve breathes, and then Villanelle kisses her again, but then Eve’s phone buzzes again, and Villanelle tries to kiss Eve again, but-

“No, stop-”

“Wha- why?”

“Because…” Eve hauls her phone out of her pocket, and makes a show of looking blankly at the screen, while Villanelle rests her forehead against Eve’s temple, breathing heavily against Eve’s cheek.

There’s Hugo’s name, when Eve remembers how to read.

And it helps Eve remember… remember her career. And her… professional standing. 

Eve can’t… even if she puts aside the fact that she doesn’t even know if she _likes_ Villanelle, personally, Eve cannot face the concept of it being _known_ that Villanelle is pursuing her. It’s just… she feels like she would be the butt of everyone’s jokes.

Villanelle’s mouth is right next to her skin. “Why… why have we stopped?”

And Eve can’t even face beginning to explain.

She steps away from Villanelle.

“Because- because this is stupid. This is stupid, you are just pursuing me because I didn’t fall into your lap immediately-”

Villanelle spots an opportunity for a weak joke, and Eve watches as she completely fails to avoid taking that opportunity. 

“Well, it was pretty quick”

Ah ha. Vindication.

“See? See? This is why… this is stupid. You don’t take anything seriously.”

Villanelle shrugs, looking just as petulant as Eve needs her to.

“What are you talking about? How can you go from kissing me to shouting at me?”

Eve rubs her hand over her face, and then sighs, gesturing at the door.

“You really should… this is … I’m being foolish. And you should leave.”

Villanelle stares at her for a moment, incredulous, and then nods once.

“Okay. Goodbye.”

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading
> 
> @yotoob on twitter for japes
> 
> SPONSORED BY OI AND FRIENDS


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